


The North Wind Blows

by Goldy



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, Drama, F/F, Fluff, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-21
Updated: 2014-07-21
Packaged: 2018-02-08 19:10:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1952745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goldy/pseuds/Goldy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>In my dreams, she keeps walking away.</i> Set during Human Nature.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The North Wind Blows

“ _Rose_!”

She’s walking away from him again.

He heaves a sigh and runs to catch up. It doesn’t take him long to reach her.

“Any chance you could slow down? Just… a little?" He has to jog to keep up with her. "Mind you, it’s not that I don’t appreciate a brisk walk—especially this time of year. Bit nippy out, isn’t it?”

She doesn’t answer, so he puts one hand on her shoulder. He gently turns her around to look at him.

“Rose,” he says. He draws in a breath. “Rose. I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages.”

She slowly raises her gaze to meet his. “Why’s that?”

Her voice sounds like a whisper. There’s something… sad about her eyes. He’s never seen her like that. Never.

“What’s wrong?”

She forces a smile and she teasingly sticks her tongue out at him. “Nothing, Doctor,” she says. She sobers and says quietly, “You look amazing, you know.”

He stares at her. “Since when do you…?” He pulls back slightly, hands going into his pockets. “No—no, something’s all wrong here—I just—I can’t…”

He looks down at his shoes—red, today—and he tries hard to remember. It’s _Rose_. Every little thing about her, down to the way she twists her fingers when she’s nervous.

“Doctor.”

He looks up at his name and she stops in front of him, one hand coming up to touch his cheek. He closes his eyes at her touch, her fingers gently tracing small circles along his skin.

“I think you know.”

“Know what?”

“You haven’t seen me in months. Longer than that, maybe. Sort of hard to be exact with a time machine, though, isn’t it? It could have been years.”

“No,” the Doctor says. “That can’t be.”

“Yes, it can,” she whispers. “Doctor, don’t you remember? Torchwood—and the war? The Daleks... the void... and I got pulled into the alternate earth. Doctor?”

She sounds worried about him, so he says, “Yes.” He can grasp the bits and pieces. Fitting them together is the hard part.

“I lost you,” he says, and he knows that part is true.

He opens his eyes and she looks the same as she did on that beach in Norway. Wind tosses her hair over her shoulders and she shivers from the cold but doesn’t move away. There are tears gathering in the corner of her eyes and her teeth bite down on her bottom lip. And he couldn’t even _touch_ her then. He could only give her one last goodbye.

“Do you miss me?” she says.

“I….” He has to swallow before he can get it out. “So much. So much, Rose, I—”

It’s not possible to put it all into words so he gathers her up into a hug instead. She gives an audible sniff, but holds herself together, her arms wrapping around his neck. He closes his eyes and holds his breath until he feels dizzy. He’s not sure he’ll ever let go.

He lifts her up in the air once and then sets her back down. She moves to press her face up against his chest, arms linking around his waist. She’s sniffling again, but not crying.

His voice surprises him. “There’s just—I have so much to tell you. So much has happened. I met—Rose, you remember the Face of Boe, don’t you? Dead, now—but that’s not the point. He told me—Rose, he told me I wasn’t alone. But it’s just—it’s impossible. I’d know if anyone else survived the Time War. I’d know. And that’s not even the half of it. There were… Daleks in New York, Rose. Daleks. And they almost did the most extraordinary thing… and _Martha_. I have to tell you about Martha. Not that—she’s not, I mean, I couldn’t—no one can replace you, but she’s…”

He trails off. It’s too much. He doesn’t want her to know about all of it. Not the darker parts. _(I’d rather be on my own.) (Kill me. Do it.) (I’m scared. I’m so scared.)_

“Blimey,” he says. “Listen to me carrying on. How about you? How’s Torchwood? Are you… Rose, you _are_ happy, aren’t you?”

She doesn’t respond, so he looks down and searches for her gaze.

“Rose?”

She blinks at him, her eyes unfocused. “I’ve got—I’ve got to go.”

“ _Go_?” he says. “But…”

He searches around desperately for something to say; something to make her see common sense. He just needs to _think_. That’s what he’s best at, isn’t he? What good is he to the world if he can’t even convince her to stay?

_(Am I ever going to see you again? You can’t.)_

He shakes his head to clear it, but not fast enough to stop her from pulling away. It’s cold without her. The breeze rustles his coat along his knees and when he looks up, she’s in the distance.

She keeps walking away from him.

***

He sees her face when he wakes up.

Those—those _things_ they talked about, it was nonsense, surely. But the girl. Rose, her name was, Rose. _And I knew her._

He goes straight for the journal, eager to get her face down before she leaves his memory. They always begin to slip away from him, his dreams.

There’s a knock on the door. “Come in!”

It’s the maid—Martha, Martha Jones. He finishes the drawing and snaps the journal shut, tossing it into his desk. He looks up to find Martha smiling at him. He doesn’t quite know what to make of that smile. It’s like she’s hiding a secret she desperately wants to share.

“Did you sleep well, sir?” she asks.

“Yes, of course,” he says. “Of course. Except…”

Martha raises her eyebrows. “Except for what?”

It’s silly, really, that a man of his post is investing so much time in what is nothing more than a fantasy.

“Nothing,” he says, forcing a smile. “Wasn't real. Impossible if it was. I...” Martha is clearly amused so he clears his throat and points to the door. "Really should be off."

"Of course, sir. Classes to teach."

He catches a glimpse of _that_ smile, but she hurriedly turns around to organize his mail and it's gone.  



End file.
